


Configurations of Divinity

by BlackEyedGirl



Category: Cloak & Dagger (TV 2018)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Bonding, Exploration of powers, Gen, Gun Violence, Handwavy-Magic, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Post-Season/Series 01, Pre-OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 17:39:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17047640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackEyedGirl/pseuds/BlackEyedGirl
Summary: Her first instinct, her historic instinct - to grab her rucksack and make a run for the window - battles with her second – to pull her blades into life.She’s saved from the decision when she hears the girl ask again, “Tandy? Are you there, this is Evita.”





	Configurations of Divinity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yasaman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yasaman/gifts).



> AN: With many thanks to Karios for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
> 
> **Content note** : The violence happens before the fic starts, and is less graphic than the show, but does involve a police shooting.

Tandy rolls from her bed onto the floor when the ringing of her phone wakes her up, too late for a casual call. It’s Tyrone’s number on the screen and Tandy picks up, whispering so her Mom won’t hear the noise. “Everything okay? If it’s a mouse in there or something, it’s an old building, you just have to keep your shit locked up. Or I can come by with some of those box traps if you like, since I guess you’re not into the snapping kind-”

A girl’s voice asks, “Is this Tandy?”

Tandy’s first instinct, her historic instinct - to grab her rucksack and make a run for the window - battles with her second – to pull her blades into life. 

She’s saved from the decision when she hears the girl ask again, “Tandy? Are you there, this is Evita.”

Tyrone’s girlfriend, or girl friend, or whatever they are now that Tyrone can’t go to his expensive school anymore since the New Orleans Police Department are continuing to pretend they believe he killed a cop. It still takes Tandy a moment to decide to respond. “Evita? Why do you have Tyrone’s cellphone?”

“Tyrone needs your help.”

There are no warring instincts this time. Tandy jumps to her feet, only noticing the light gathering around her hands when the shadows of her bedroom melt away. “Where are you?”

“We’re in St Theresa’s-”

“Okay. Need me to bring anything?”

“First aid kit? But I don’t know if that’ll help.”

Again, there’s the instinct to just run. Tandy exhales. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

 

*

Tyrone is lying on a mattress on the floor. Tandy wouldn’t be sure he’s breathing, except that Evita is kneeling there beside him watching him intently.

“What the hell happened?” Tandy demands. She crosses the church in a flash, looking over what she can see of Tyrone’s chest and arms. She doesn’t want to touch him. She doesn’t know what she’d do if she touched him and nothing happened. 

Evita turns that assessing gaze on Tandy, but from this angle Tandy can see the threads of fear in it. “I think he moved too late.”

“What?”

“We were just walking. It was dark, but someone saw us. Some cop, I don’t know if he was one of them or if he just recognised Tyrone from the arrest. He pulled a gun and Tyrone tried to get us both out of the way.”

“Sounds like Ty,” Tandy says.

“Something happened. Maybe that thing of his didn’t work or maybe he just didn’t move at the right time, but-” Evita holds out a bullet. On first glance Tandy can’t see it – the bullet has clearly been fired but Tandy has seen bullets fired at Tyrone before. And then she sees the dot of blood. Just a dot.

Tandy does touch Tyrone this time, not skin to skin, but searching for the wound. He can’t be hurt, not really hurt. They have both got so much better at their weird-ass things and there’s no way one surprised cop with a gun could stop him. There’s a graze on Tyrone’s cheek. His breathing is wrong and he won’t wake up when she shakes him. She can’t tell why.

Evita shakes her head. “There’s nothing there. It was like- like he flickered away and back there for a second, like he got stuck and the bullet got stuck too. And then they both moved.”

Tandy finds herself rocking back and forth a little, her palm on Tyrone’s unsteady heartbeat the one thing grounding her here. “Why did you bring him here? Why didn’t you take him to a hospital?”

“He brought us here, right after it happened. And I don’t even know if it’s something a surgeon could fix. Whatever happened, whatever that bullet did, it was his _power_ that went wrong. I can- I don’t think it’s a wound, I think it’s a tear, like he didn’t come all the way out of wherever he goes, wherever that darkness comes from.” 

Tandy doesn’t know Evita well enough to tell if she always sounds so calm when she’s worried. And Tandy isn’t in the place to analyse her right now. Tandy is trying her best not to lose it. Tyrone needs them both to keep it together.

“A hospital might-” Tandy’s not sure even she believes what she’s saying; she hadn’t trusted Liam to wrap her own wounds when she got them last, never mind her Mom. After Roxxon, after she and Tyrone both woke up against all odds, Tyrone had cleaned out the burn on Tandy’s arm, gloves over his gentle fingers.

Evita asks, “You truly believe that if I brought him to a hospital they wouldn’t ask questions? They would call the cops, Tandy, you know that. You think that would end with him just walking out of there? A black teenage boy who they’re telling everyone killed one of their own?”

Tandy doesn’t know. She knows she doesn’t want this to be on her: Tyrone barely breathing with some wounds she can’t find, and Evita angrily looking to her for an answer. She barely feels like a divine pairing when Tyrone is there to steady her, alone she’s just-

Tandy says, “I can’t- nothing I can do is going to fix this. All I do is-”

Evita takes a breath. “I still don't really know who you are, Tandy. I know what the city thinks you are. I know who Tyrone thinks you are. But I don’t know who you are as a person.”

“Evita, I-”

“Let me finish. For right now, though? You’re Tyrone’s balance. What he did- he’s hurt and maybe that’s something a doctor could fix if there was anyone we trusted right now, but we don’t, and you’re here. And what you do is the other half of what he does, so you have to try. Tyrone thinks he can count on you.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do.” Tandy doesn’t mean it to sound so much like a plea.

“ _Try_.”

Tandy pushes the hem of Tyrone’s shirt up, where it’s untorn, where his skin is unbroken, but where something beneath that is keeping him unconscious. She closes her eyes and touches his chest. She’s expecting to be thrown apart from him, or to fall into his brain, the hopes and fears that change each time they go walking into each other’s heads. Instead there’s nothing.

Why hadn’t she felt it when he was shot? Tyrone is her other half, he's been called to her side so many times, how can it be that she didn’t feel something? She can’t even remember the last thing she’d said to him, can’t remember if it was something sincere or some joke at his expense because he’s so easy to tease.

Evita says, “Don’t think of it like medicine. Think of it like... there’s a fracture in him, so some of the shadow spilled out or got stuck. You just need to seal it up again.”

Tandy pulls her fingers together, offering a wish to the universe, which is little more than _please_. 

Evita gasps and Tandy opens her eyes.

The light has formed inside Tandy’s hand, spilling where it touches his chest. And a sliver of shadow is creeping up from Tyrone’s skin to wind around her wrist. Tandy ignores it. There is a graze on Tyrone’s face which is slowly, slowly, healing itself closed. 

For a moment Tandy thinks she's pulled her own trick back on herself, taken in by the hope that she could fix Ty.

But Evita says, “So that’s doing something. What about you, is it hurting you?”

Tandy is the balance, Evita said, and right now maybe there is just too much for Tyrone. That’s okay. Tandy can take it.

She lets herself fall forward, spreading herself over him. He has dragged her out before and she can do this for him. It’s cold and for a second all she can feel is his fear, in that moment when it happened, for himself and for Evita, for his mother who still waits for him at home, for his father who hopes that he’s gone somewhere far away and safe. Tandy pulls that into herself, lets herself drown in it, exchanging it for the sharp white light she only ever feels a conduit for. She forces the warmth into him. He deserves this so much more than her.

Tandy takes a breath and when she exhales, she’s in a familiar spot. She’s on that beach again, with Tyrone or Billy’s jacket warm on her shoulders and Tyrone himself sitting on the sand beside her. She glares at him. “You are so much trouble. If we get out of this you’re going to owe me big.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’d call you out on that, but I don’t keep score.”

“Liar.” 

He grins. “Not with you. Not for a long time.”

“Not with you,” she agrees. 

“Although you have stolen my jacket again.”

“Only ‘til you stop being an asshole and wake up.”

Tyrone frowns. “I’m not sure if-”

When he leans back she can see it. The shadows are running straight through his chest in ribbons, where he’s usually clothed in them. Tandy reaches out and touches him. Tyrone jerks back, but the tethers are faster and wrap around her. Tandy tries to focus on not throwing them off.

“Tandy,” Tyrone says, “What?”

The waves roll in gently over the sand. Tandy breathes. “Ty, if this doesn’t work-”

“What are you trying to do?” he asks.

“I’m trying to get these back where they belong but I’m pretty much winging it here. There’s a solid chance I’m about to fix you and mess myself up pretty badly. I need you not to make this one of the things you- it’s going to be okay.”

She shouldn’t have given him the warning, knowing what she does about Tyrone and guilt. But knowing what she does, knowing what might happen, she couldn’t not try to head that off at the pass either. 

Tyrone is struggling harder to pull away from her. “Tandy, whatever you’re doing, stop it now, you got me? _Stop_.” He shoves at her shoulder as though that’ll do anything when she’s followed him through different shades of his own memories and visions at a time when she barely knew him. Tyrone may scare other people in the dark nights but he doesn’t scare her.

And yet for some reason, the skies above them cloud over and Tandy feels herself slipping away from him. “Tyrone!”

She sees it then, the way he’s marshalled the shadows he does still control to push back at the light she’s trying to use in exchange. 

Tandy comes back to reality in the church, Evita leaning over her and shaking her shoulder.

Tandy sits up. “I need to try that again.”

“Wait,” Evita says. “Take a breath, Tandy.” She wraps her arms around Tandy’s shoulders and tries to pull her back.

“What are you doing?” Tandy asks. “I’m trying to fix him, I’m doing what you wanted.”

“You look like hell,” Evita says. “Whatever you were doing, it was burning you up. He wouldn’t want that.”

“How would you know-?”

“I know him. And I don’t know you barely at all, Tandy, but I know you weren’t going to stop just because it was hurting you. Was it even working?”

Tandy looks at Tyrone. He might be breathing a little easier. There’s an expression on his face now, even in unconsciousness, a mulish frown. She hopes that’s a good thing.

“Why did you stop me?” Tandy asks.

Evita takes a beat before answering. “I already said-”

“I know, but a couple of months ago you stood in here with us and said one of us had to die, and I know you weren’t hoping it was Ty.” Tandy holds up her hands. “No judgement here. Nine days out of ten I’d pick Tyrone over me in a heartbeat.”

“Tandy.”

“I’m just curious, I guess. I never was able to resist poking at a question. Too much of my Dad in me, maybe.” Tandy means to laugh, but it’s been a long night and Tyrone is still not waking up.

Evita reaches across and touches Tandy’s wrist, skin to skin this time. Tandy tries to stop her before it happens but Evita is surprisingly quick.

It’s more formless this time. Or, not formless, but too many forms, shifting from one to the other. Different versions of the story. Evita and Tyrone, Evita as valedictorian, Tyrone able to go back home where he belongs. The city recovered, the city better than it was, all of them safe and well. A city where Tyrone doesn’t need to be afraid. There’s so much hope in her. 

Tandy is better now than she was; she lets go and doesn’t try to drag the hope away with her. “It’s okay,” she says. “I’m working on generating my own.”

Evita gives her a small smile. “Want to start with him?”

Tandy really does. She sighs and glares down at Tyrone. “There aren't very many things in this world that I trust. And one of those turned out to be so much false advertising. But you, Ty, you're my one solid fact, one article of faith.” She taps his shoulder. “Except that's not right. Because I don't need to _try_ to have faith in you. You’ve been right here beside me when everything was going to hell. I trust that, Ty. I trust you. So I guess the thing I have to work up some hope for is that you're not going to go away and leave me without so much as a goodbye, right?” She reaches behind her without looking. “The thing I’ve learned, doing this? The people with the most hope, the truest hope? They’re the people doing something about it. So me and Evita are coming to get you out of there, and this time you’re going to let us help you.” Her fingertips brush Evita’s.

“What are you doing, Tandy?” Evita asks.

“I am a _lot_ better than Tyrone when it comes to kicking ass with this thing. My aim’s fucking great. But when it comes to the other stuff... I go back in there alone, he’ll just kick me out again. But you? You’re the one who kicked _me_ out of your head, and you didn’t need glowy superpowers to do it. Plus, Ty listens to you.”

Evita wrinkles her nose. “He listens to you.”

“I know, I know.” Tandy waves that off. “I’m not saying he doesn’t listen when I talk or anything like that. But it’s different with you.” She laughs. “Maybe because you actually know what you’re talking about and the two of us are making it up as we go along.”

“Do you even know _how_ to take me with you?” Evita asks.

“Did you not just hear me say that we’re making it up?”

“Tandy.”

“Take my hand, don’t let me go wandering into your hopes instead, and focus really hard on finding Ty.”

Tandy keeps her eyes on Tyrone. A moment later, Evita’s hand slides into Tandy’s, and squeezes hard. Tandy exhales, and grabs Tyrone’s hand. The church blinks away.

The world resolves itself into a dark room, with Evita still holding her hand. Tandy turns to her to check, “You with me?”

Evita asks, “So this is what it looks like from the other side?”

“Pretty much. Not what you were expecting?”

“I don’t know. It’s strange how normal everything looks.”

“I wouldn’t bank on it staying that way,” Tandy says. Still, it’s a dimly lit hallway, with an open door. Tandy holds out her free hand to pull a light blade into it, more for the illumination than the weapon. “This is Tyrone’s house.”

Evita pushes at the doorway. “And this is his bedroom.” She shrugs. “Looks like it did before.”

There are posters on the wall, a few tickets on the pin-board, 'The Outsiders' still sitting on the nightstand with a bookmark halfway through. “Yeah.”

“But no Tyrone.”

“No.” Tandy raises her voice. “Ty! Tyrone?”

Evita echoes it. “Tyrone?” She looks at Tandy. “Let’s try downstairs.”

In the kitchen, there’s still no Tyrone. There is, however, Tyrone’s Dad, sitting at the breakfast bar and staring at something on the counter. When Tandy gets a little closer she can see what it is: the torn shreds of the cloak that had been Billy’s, before Tyrone finished it and then had it ripped off him. Mr Johnson is holding it in his hands, working over the tattered edges. 

Evita says, “Mr Johnson?”

“If he can hear you,” Tandy says, “It’s probably a bad sign.”

He doesn’t respond, and in the quiet that follows Tandy can hear something else. A small, soft noise from the other room. She doesn’t want to look around, but she does.

On the couch in the sitting room, Tyrone’s mother is weeping. There’s barely a sound at all. Her shoulders shake, her hands are pressed to her mouth. Despite what she knows, despite what she’s just told Evita, Tandy takes half a step towards her.

Evita pulls Tandy back. “I went to see her, you know?” Evita says. “After everything had calmed down a little bit.”

“I wouldn’t have known what to say,” Tandy tells her.

“I didn’t either,” Evita says. “I just wanted to tell her that I knew it wasn’t true. Couldn’t explain to her _how_ I knew for sure, but I just wanted to- I don’t know. I think I wanted her to know that Tyrone isn’t on his own, there are other people who care about him.”

They’re still holding hands, and Tandy interlocks their fingers. “See? I could tell from that day outside your school.”

“Tell what?”

“That you are a sickeningly good person, Evita Fusilier.”

Evita raises her eyebrows and sets her loose hand on her hip. “And you need to stop pretending that you’re an awful one.”

“Trying, okay? It’s a work in progress.” Tandy looks around the room again. “And still no sign of him. Tyrone?”

This time it echoes, but it’s not Tandy’s voice, or Evita’s. The sounds bounce off the walls, overlapping and repeating – _Tyrone, Tyrone, Tyrone_. Tandy picks one out from that decade-old recording, Billy calling out his little brother’s name. After a moment, she hears Mr and Mrs Johnson, maybe Detective O'Reilly. But the voices are getting louder until it’s almost painful, swelling around the two of them.

Evita runs to pull them through the front door, which opens out onto complete darkness. The door to the house slams behind them. Tandy opens and closes her eyes to see if it makes any difference, but there’s nothing.

“Want to try that light trick again?” Evita asks.

“Oh, right. Good idea.” The light Tandy calls up forms a wicked knife without her thinking about it. It’s just bright enough now that she can see Evita’s face.

“Did we do something wrong?” Evita asks.

Tandy shrugs. “Still winging it here. Could do with a signpost.”

“Like what? This way to Tyrone Johnson?”

“Hey, it’s his fever-dream, I’m just saying he could have left us a map. Or at least a trail of breadcrumbs.” The light-knife jumps out of her hand, and starts floating away from them. “What the hell?”

“That wasn’t you?” Evita asks.

“Not on purpose.” Tandy whistles, and the knife pulls up sharply. She whispers to herself, “Focus on Ty.” Then, louder, “Show us to Tyrone.” 

The knife starts gliding through the air again, twitching back and forth as it goes. 

“It’s not going to stab him when it gets there, right?” Evita asks.

“Of course not,” Tandy answers. Then: “Probably not. I don’t know. Let’s find Ty first, and if it looks like stabbing him I’ll think of something.”

She’s not sure how long they follow it. The small light is the only feature in the landscape as they walk. After a while, Tandy breaks the silence. “Can I ask you a really personal question?”

Evita is surprised into laughter. “More personal than rooting out my hopes and dreams?”

“It’s kind of related.”

“I guess you can ask,” Evita says. “I might not answer.”

“If Tyrone touched you now, what would he see?”

There’s a long pause. Evita says, “Okay, you were right, that’s more personal.” 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Tandy says.

Evita sighs. “What you said about that day in St Theresa’s, about wanting you to be the one who died- I thought I knew what I was supposed to do. I didn't like it, but I knew. And now... Auntie thinks that whatever the two of you were brought out to stop, it's not done yet. The song still needs to be finished. And whatever that is, the worse thing waiting, or the fate that got broken, whatever that means for the city? And not _knowing it_ , all of the things that could be worse than what’s already happened here? I think that's what Tyrone would see, if he tried to work his thing on me.”

“I'm sorry,” Tandy says. She doesn’t know how else to respond.

“Don't be sorry for living through it,” Evita answers. “Just be ready.”

“Can't promise that either. But whatever it is, whatever’s out there or down there or whatever? I'm sticking around. I know that wasn't always true but now... I'm staying here.” Tandy can do nothing about her instincts, but she can make her own choices.

“You see?” Evita asks, smiling. “I could tell from that day in the church. You’re not a bad person, Tandy Bowen.”

“Not good enough to find Tyrone though.”

“Tyrone is not good at letting people help him.”

From somewhere across the void, there’s an answer. “I’m afraid of what happens after they do.”

“Tyrone!” Tandy’s not sure which of them shouts.

The light-knife has stopped in mid-air, and Tyrone’s hand is wrapped around it. The shadow makes the light flare up away from it, like a burning torch. In that light and at this distance, Tandy can just about see the shape of him, all cloaked in living darkness, except for the gashes across and through his chest. They were shadow tendrils before, on the beach, and now they’re edged in light.

Evita tells him. “You stay there, Tyrone, you hear me?”

They start running towards him, crossing the space faster than they seemed to be moving through it before.

When they reach him, Tyrone asks, “Evita, how did you even get here? Or are you just-?”

Evita takes another step closer to him and brushes her fingers down his cheek. “Not a figment, very real, very worried about you, kind of pissed off that you made us walk through a whole sea of nothing to find you.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not really sure how I did that. I was just trying to stop Tandy hurting herself and I think I just... threw us both in different directions, maybe? And then I wound up here.”

Tandy points out. “And then we found you. And I discovered how to use my knives as a _homing beacon_ so you can’t ever pull this shit again.”

“You did what?” he asks.

“Homing beacon. You need to up your game, Ty.”

“I’ll get right on that.” He laughs and the weight which had been pressing on Tandy’s chest eases up just a little.

“For now, though,” Tandy says, “we need a plan. Any ideas?”

“I still don’t really know what happened,” Tyrone says. “If I messed up my teleport,” – which he still says like he can’t believe the word is coming out of his mouth – “I should just be dead. Shouldn’t I?”

Evita circles Tyrone and Tandy follows her, not certain what would happen if they dropped hands. Evita asks, “When you do teleport, it’s not exactly like you just move from one place to another, is it?”

Tyrone thinks about that. “I mean... it’s a little more like, I don’t know, like when you’re dreaming, I guess, and you’re just suddenly somewhere else.”

Tandy adds, “The coming back is always pretty dramatic looking, like the shadow spits you back out again.”

Evita bites down on her lip. “And with what happened to Connors, you said it was like he got pulled in?”

Tyrone’s gaze flicks to what would be the ground, if any of them could see it. “Yeah.”

“So it’s more complicated than you being in one place and then just turning up somewhere else. Like there’s somewhere in between.”

“You think some of him is stuck there,” Tandy realises. 

“Or snagged on the edges of it,” Evita answers. 

“Okay, how do we unsnag me?” Tyrone asks.

Tandy snorts. “So now you’re willing to let us help?”

“As long as it won’t kill you. When you were trying before, Tandy, it looked like- it looked as though _you_ were getting pulled in. Like Connors was. And I’m not doing that to you.” Tyrone’s hand settles on her elbow, such a serious expression on his face. Tandy could still punch him, just a little, for making them trek through this, but God does she love him. She can’t tell him that, but on balance she hopes that he knows.

“Okay,” Tandy says. “But what _I’m_ not doing is leaving you here tied onto the between-place. We can figure this out.”

Evita says, “I think you were doing it right the first time. Your thing-” she tugs on Tandy’s wrist – “acts as an opposing force to yours-” she takes hold of Tyrone’s – “doesn’t it? That’s why you kept sending each other flying before.”

“It doesn’t happen all the time now,” Tyrone points out.

“No, but even when it’s just-” Evita pulls their hands together and the light and shadow twist into tendrils which dance around each other without blurring together. “They balance each other out. You can use one to move the other. You should be able to use Tandy’s thing to get you unstuck. The only problem is...”

“What?” Tyrone asks.

“You ever pull on something that’s stuck? You keep pulling and pulling, try to get it loose, and then it all comes free at once. _Everything_ goes flying." Evita drops hold of Tyrone’s wrist to demonstrate, and their light and shadow flick away from each other. "We do that, maybe you end up getting thrown back again, all of you this time, and we can’t find you. Or maybe both of you get thrown opposite directions.”

Tyrone’s laugh this time is a little nervous chuckle that Tandy knows well. “Okay, let’s not do that.”

And Tandy suddenly knows exactly what to do. She turns to Evita. “So you hold onto both of us.”

“Tandy,” Evita says. “I don’t know if that’s something I can do.”

“What was it you said to me before? This maybe isn’t something you know, and it’s not something you’d choose, but you’re the one who’s here so you have to try. You threw me out of your head before, all you need to do this time is wait until me and Ty get him detangled and then drag us both out with you.”

“Oh, that’s all?” She tips her head to one side, expression challenging. 

Tyrone ignores the sarcasm. “You don’t have to do this. You could go now, and Tandy and I’ll figure this out. It’s our freak thing, not yours.”

Evita takes a breath and grabs Tyrone’s hand again. “That doesn’t matter.” She’s still holding Tandy’s left hand in her right, as she has been since they arrived. And maybe it’s intent or that they’ve finally made a decision but this time as soon as all three of them are touching, both the light and the shadows burst out further from their bodies.

“Okay,” Tandy says, “let’s do this.” Tyrone opens his mouth to protest but she’s already moving, reaching towards the threads which are holding him here. She pushes forward with her palm, and there’s a shudder as the force tries to drive him backwards, even as the threads begin to tangle around her instead. Opposing forces.

“Nope,” Tyrone says, stretching out towards her in return. “This isn’t an exchange deal. You don’t get her.”

The threads spin up and then around all three of them, a vortex of something. It howls. It is both terrifying and still, somehow, almost comfortingly familiar. Something in Tandy recognises this, the way it’s calling her. 

Tyrone leans forward to press his forehead against hers. “Hold on.”

The noise builds to a crescendo and then there’s a sudden sharp pull on her hand. And then silence.

Tandy closes her eyes against the sudden light, worried she’s pulled them into her own colourless hellscape. She realises that it isn’t silence out here, it’s just quieter than whatever that was. She hears a clock strike four a.m. And when she opens her eyes, it’s not blinding light, just the glow from the candles lit around St Theresa’s. It’s brighter than what went before.

She hurriedly sits up. “Tyrone?”

He blinks at her. “Hi.”

On Tandy’s other side, Evita detangles their fingers to use her hand to push herself up. She moves in shoulder to shoulder with Tandy, and their elbows brush when they both reach out to check Tyrone. “We’re going to need more than that,” Evita tells him.

“Hello?” he tries. Tyrone sits up onto his elbows on the mattress and looks around. “Did I bring us here?”

“More or less,” Evita says. “Your aim wasn’t great but then you were pretty bad off at the time.”

“Thank you for that,” Tyrone says.

Evita asks, “For what?”

“Looking out for me. Getting Tandy.” He turns to look at her now. “Not giving up on me.”

“Never going to happen,” Tandy says, shaking her head. 

“Okay,” he says. He smiles at both of them. Tyrone blinks suddenly and wipes at his face. He asks, “Wasn’t I bleeding?”

Tandy grins. “Oh, also? I might have healing powers? Really limited healing powers. Again: up your game, Johnson.”

Tyrone half-heartedly glares at her. “I figured out how to make a completely empty universe. This hasn’t even healed all the way up.”

Tandy ignores him, though she is interested in why there was so little she could do for the bleeding, when between them they had managed to heal his whole body in the vision place. Still: “So many times that would have been helpful to do to myself,” she muses out loud. So many hangovers and bruises, and at least one concussion. “But maybe it only works on you? We should do more experiments. We need to get ready.”

Tyrone smiles at her, soft. “But maybe not today?”

“Sure, Ty.” She turns her head to look at Evita out of the corner of her eye. “You have anywhere you need to be?”

Evita looks at her watch. “Not at nearly five a.m., no.”

“Okay, good.” Tandy stretches up, yawning. “Because that was exhausting and I vote for a nap. Ty?”

“I mean, I live here now.”

“Cool.” Tandy tries not to look at either of them as she kicks off her sneakers and curls up at the edge of the thin mattress.

There’s a drawn out moment where she suspects Tyrone and Evita are exchanging looks over her head. And then Evita slips down beside her. “I’ve got to be at work in a few hours,” she says. “You ever do the Damballah Voodoo Tour, Tandy?”

“I have not,” Tandy says, becoming sleepily warm with both Tyrone and Evita so close.

“The two of you should come along. Tyrone’s seen it already but I’m sure he could use a refresher.”

“I might need a disguise,” he points out. His voice is coming from nearer to her now.

“I’m good at those,” Tandy says. “Gotta make use of my con-artistry somehow.”

“Okay,” Evita says, “it’s a date.” She turns over and settles her hand on Tyrone’s chest. 

From somewhere further up the bed Tandy hears the soft rustle of Tyrone settling down. He reaches out and brushes his fingers over Tandy’s hair before wrapping his whole hand around her shoulder and tugging her a little closer. Tandy’s eyes blur for a second, but it might just be the candlelight. She closes them again and, when she dreams, she dreams of using her light as a beacon, a signpost back to this place, no matter what unfinished destiny is still out there waiting for them.


End file.
